


Without you

by Rosetylars



Category: Cricket RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, M/M, No Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosetylars/pseuds/Rosetylars
Summary: Pat just wants Mitch back.
Relationships: Pat Cummins/Mitch Marsh
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15





	Without you

“Mitchy,” Pat breathed, when they were finally face to face again. “God, I’ve missed you.”

He thought of the hollow feeling of waking up to an empty bed, no warm body curled in beside his, like there always used to be. No soft snores that made Pat smile... no whispered swears when Mitch got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and tripped over his own shoes, always strewn everywhere except where they should have been. Pat should have been over it by now, but those memories were still so endearing to him.

“I knew it’d be hard, you leaving me, but...” Pat’s voice broke, “it’s been so much harder than I expected. I want you back every day. I’d do anything.”

A few tears escaped Pat’s eyes. Pat had half expected Mitch to wipe them away, like he always had. But Mitch didn’t respond. And that broke Pat’s heart even further.

“I still make two coffees every morning, hoping you’ll come back, hoping you’ll come home to me. Is that stupid? Am I crazy?” Pat asked. His eyes were wet, and his lip was quivering, but he couldn’t even find it within himself to worry about his appearance. Not in front of Mitch. Mitch always made Pat feel so beautiful… and that wasn’t a feeling that ever disappeared, even after they separated.

Pat knew he should stop talking. Mitch wasn’t responding to him - he remained in stony silence.

Pat thought back to a time when he couldn’t get Mitch to shut up. When they were together, Mitch talked over everything - TV, sport, movies, matches - it often got him in trouble, but Pat used to love it, because it made Mitch _himself_.

Their friends often asked how Pat didn’t get annoyed when Mitch talked into the early hours of the morning - when they were on tour together, teammates would often send texts in the group chat along the lines of ‘ _Mitch, please shut up, it’s 2am and we don’t care about the size of the fish you caught three months ago off the coast of Rotto._ ’

But there were also the times that Mitch would talk to Pat, late at night, when they were separated on opposite coasts of Australia. When Pat was younger, heartbroken about the recurring stress fractures in his back, Mitch was always able to talk him down. He’d talk about how the injuries were just a setback to write about in Pat’s autobiography - though Mitch could never get that word out, and he’d always settle on ‘ _the book you write when you’re fifty and everyone wants to know about the best bowler in the history of the sport.’_ They had been so young, at the time, and the thought had been so distant that it always made Pat laugh.

As they grew up together, navigating their early and mid-twenties, they never grew out of the habit of leaving FaceTime chats running as they slept, caning their home internet data in the process. One night, Mitch had woken up from a nightmare. His gasping pants woke Pat, and so fresh out of his bad dream, Mitch could still recount the details to his boyfriend - he had dreamt that he was driving, with Pat in the front seat, and they were laughing about something when Mitch lost control of the car. In the dream, Mitch had survived, but Pat hadn’t. Mitch was in tears as he told the story, and Pat wished he could fly across the country, right then, just to hold Mitch in his arms and tell him it was just a dream, and that everything was okay. He would never have that on his conscience.

But now… Pat wasn’t sure. Mitch had left Pat, and that had hurt just as much.

“Is it weird that I still wear your jumpers?” Pat asked, fighting the urge to bury his nose in the collar of the jumper he was wearing. It had been Mitch’s, a long time ago - but they had been separated for six months, now, and despite Pat’s best intentions to keep the scent in it forever, Steve had come to Pat’s house and washed it for him. Expectedly, Pat broke down when he found out.

_‘Steve, how could you do this to me?’ Pat sobbed._

_‘Patty, I know you miss him. I know it’s hard, and you’re still heartbroken. But it’s been three months, and you wear that jumper almost every day. It was definitely full of germs,’ Steve said gently, wrapping Pat up in a hug, pecking the younger man’s forehead as he sobbed._

_‘It’s not full of germs,’ Pat sniffed._

_‘Patty, your skin started to itch yesterday when you wore it,’ Steve said, keeping his tone calm and gentle. ‘It was starting to get really bad for your health.’_

_Pat didn’t know what to say, and he let out a pitiful sob, instead. Steve wrapped him up in his arms, cradling Pat’s head to his chest._

_‘I know you miss him like mad,’ Steve whispered. ‘But you’re strong. You’re gonna get through this.’_

_‘I just want him back. I don’t care about anything else. I’d give up everything.’_

The memory still brought tears to Pat’s eyes, and he wiped them away, frustrated with himself for getting so emotional when he had such a rare chance to see Mitch… even if things weren’t the same as they had been, when they were together.

What Pat would’ve done just for a hug.

Pat knew he should stop talking. He was making a fool out of himself… but he didn’t care, any more.

“I saw Shaun, yesterday. He’s broken. The kids miss you so much, Mitchy. Mabel asked me when you were coming home, and Shaun broke down. We fucking miss you,” Pat sobbed. “I might have to move house. I can’t stay there without thinking about you with every single thing I do. I picked up that one fork you hated, the other night, and stood there crying into our kitchen drawer,” Pat’s voice broke.

His tears fell onto the grave below him, evaporating almost immediately in the searing Perth heat.

Mitch had loved days like this. If he were still alive, Pat knew they would’ve been spending the day on the boat, laughing together, enjoying each other's company.

“Life isn’t worth living without you, Mitchy,” Pat choked out.

He placed his forehead to the stone below him, and it was almost definitely in his head, but he felt the most connected to Mitch that he had since his last visit, which had been last weekend.

It was time for Pat to go. He dusted the stray leaves off of Mitch’s grave, placing a new bouquet at the foot of the grave, getting rid of the last one he had left, as he did.

“I love you, Mitchy,” Pat whispered, leaving the graveyard with a heavy heart.


End file.
